Tecavüz Arzusu Ölmedi [Madou]

She’s tied to the bed, wrists bound above her head, struggling uselessly as I part her thighs. Her muffled screams only make my cock harder. I slide into her tight pussy without warning, her body jerking with each brutal thrust. The ropes bite into her skin as I fuck her from behind, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. Her ass jiggles with every impact, her moans turning into desperate whimpers. I slap her cunt, watching it redden, then shove my fingers inside her mouth. She gags, eyes streaming tears, but I don’t stop. I need to hear her break, to feel her surrender under my weight.

I flip her over, spreading her legs wide, and ram into her again. Her tits bounce wildly as I pound into her wetness, each stroke deeper than the last. She’s sobbing now, begging me to stop, but her hips push back against me. I know she wants it, her body betraying her words. I grab her throat, squeezing just enough to make her gasp, and whisper filth into her ear. Her pussy clenches around me, and I slam into her harder, faster, until she’s screaming my name. I pull out and cum across her face, watching my seed drip down her cheeks.

She’s a mess, bound and used, her makeup ruined. I untie one hand, shove her face into the pillow, and take her ass. She howls, but I don’t care. I fuck her until she’s limp, then leave her there, still tied, still dripping. This is what she needed, what we both needed. The desire to rape isn’t dead—it’s alive, burning in every thrust, every tear, every broken moan.